BEING the wife or girlfriend of a Premiership footballer is nowhere near as much fun as it seems on the outside – believe me, I’ve spent time with these women as research for my novels about Wags, and I know. Much of their life is spent feeling lonely and fearful.

I went to visit one Wag – a beautiful girl with shiny blonde hair, pearly white teeth and an incredibly pretty face. ‘Look at these,’ she said, jumping up and pulling a pile of rough bits of paper out of her skinny designer jeans and from the pockets of pink tracksuit top. She handed me grubby notes on torn match boxes, beer mats and old receipts. All of them had phone numbers scribbled on them. ‘These are what get handed to my husband every time he goes out drinking or socializing,’ she said. ‘And often I’m sitting next to him at the time.’

I went on one night out with the Wags and as soon as one of the women left her seat next to her boyfriend to go to the loo, four scantily-clad girls jumped into the ‘vacant chair’ and began flashing at the player, putting his hand up their skirts and handing him their numbers.

Is it any wonder that that Wags are in a state of panic when their husbands go out socializing on their own?

‘We trust our husbands but when they’re playing a sport in which so many players are messing around - it’s hard. When I hear a player’s been unfaithful it’s like I’ve been shot. Then I hear it’s not my husband and I’m so relieved I’m in tears.’

As well as worrying about the predatory teenagers who stalk nightclubs, the Wags also feel like people only wanted to know them to get close to their husbands. ‘People open the door for him and let it go in my face. They’ll take his bag and carry it to the taxi while I’m struggling with mine.’

The Wags I met, despite being beautiful, super slim and wealthy beyond their dreams had become so fearful of what might happen that they had complete obsession with their own appearance an effort to compete with the young wannabe Wags. Even those in their 20s had had botox, breast enhancements and liposuction. ‘I feel like I’m never off duty,’ one Wag said. ‘I feel this need to be perfect in order to keep him.’

The girls I met were colourful, confident and peacock like on the outside, burning with ambition and enthusiasm that masked great loneliness, insecurity and confusion on the inside. It’s not a nice way to live.